


she ran out in the woods

by iskra (kiira)



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Gen, PTSD tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 08:32:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4557789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiira/pseuds/iskra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>part of you, all of you, knows she’s going to say 'buried,' say 'mother got angry,' say 'you’ll never be safe again, darling girl,' except she sighs.</p><p>'they were coming for us, the baron and his… troops. this was the only place to hide, under the floorboards like some kind of – '</p><p>OR</p><p>im so furious at how things are going in carmilla rn</p>
            </blockquote>





	she ran out in the woods

It’s dark and you don’t know where you are.

It’s _dark_ and you don’t know _where you are_ and you can smell blood.

You can smell blood and you’re not alone.

“Quiet, kitten,” someone whispers, and it’s all you can do not to

/

keep track of the days. It’s hard and you count second after second after second after second after – in your head except sometimes .

sometimes you forget what number you’re on.

once you cried and no one

/

“can know we’re here, it’s me, Carmilla, it’s me, it’s Mattie,” and you realize – she’s staring at you like something dead.

“Mattie,” and she nods once, “where are we?”

Part of you, all of you, knows she’s going to say _buried_ , say _Mother got angry_ , say _you’ll never be safe again, darling girl_ , except she sighs.

“They were coming for us, the Baron and his… troops. This was the only place to hide, under the floorboards like some kind of

/

 _Monster_ , Ell screams, and you drive the splinter through your hand.

/

There’s shuffling above you, a couple angry banging noises, and you bite through Mattie’s hand because you cannot make a noise. You look at her and think: I am not dead; you look at her and remember you are.

She asks if she can touch you after a particularly loud noise (they’re not bombs, you know logically; they’re bombs, your fists scream) and you bury your face in her shoulder. You usually cannot stand to be touched, but here. Mattie is warm and alive and you chant in your head _Mother would never bury Mattie, bury Mattie, bury Mattie_ until it all blurs into _Mattie Mattie Mattie_.

You can taste her blood in your mouth, feel her

/

warm skin on yours sweet mouth bony fingers and you wake up and she is dead; you are baptized in her blood

/

“I crawled out of that pit,” you whisper to Mattie in the sticky, wooden heat, “twice I crawled out and we still have bones.”

You think she says _I’m sorry_ , but you’re also exhausted (only feel Mattie’s humming breath on your breast).

She still breathes, you think.

/

Laura starts talking after you lose track of your seconds, and she’s muffled, still so lovely. You know she doesn’t understand, that she panicked and shut you in here and Laura how many times must I tell you?

You know she published that video for the whole campus, whole world to see because a girl in your Discourse Analysis class gave you a pamphlet for a support group she attended, and sometimes you wonder if any piece of your life is private.

Someone slams a door and you break Mattie’s fingers.

/

you wake up to the world exploding

/

and try to claw your way out; someone is watching you, holding your wrists, murmuring something that pieces together to be _you’re safe, Carmilla, you’re safe you’re safe you’re safe_ and _you have to be quiet_

/

as death, or Mother will find out about you, about love, about everything other than hopelessness. Somehow the sun is weak and thin, and it does not hurt your bare arms. Somehow you feel – something wonderful.

except:

here she is and

here is Ell and

here is the end of everything other than hopelessness

/

The door opens, the light floods in, you do not pull yourself out of hell. Laura looks at you, curled into Mattie, and you see her sneer.

 _Did you ever love me_ , except you’re too tired to think like that and Mattie glares at Laura.

“She told you everything, _everything_ , and you did _that_ ,” Mattie spits once Laura’s turned off her camera, and you’re too tired for this, but Mattie, clearly, isn’t.

Laura looks terrified, and sad, and you cannot  _do_  this right now. So you just stretch up on tiptoes and kiss Mattie’s cheek, brush your fingers against the fading bite marks on her hand (kiss those too, and Laura looks sick).

“We need to talk later,” you say, and Laura nods, doesn’t meet your eyes.

Mattie kisses the top of your head and

  
/

i’ve buried myself twice for you.

/

You dream that night of prisons, of coffins and drowning and when you wake up gasping, you can’t even pretend to be surprised. Your shoulder aches, and you can’t really do anything except bow your head and try not to cry.

Curl up into yourself (you were never meant to take up this space) and fall back asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> come hang out @ bettymcraae.tumblr.com


End file.
